Pulsating Transient Inhabitant (for Writers Island)

“Childhood” pencil on paper, 07/04/98. By: Jeques B. Jamora

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I arrived not knowing what I am here for, where I came from and where I’m going.

At 4 o’clock in the morning on the last day of July, three decades and 5 years ago, another pulsating transient inhabitant came crying on his arrival seeing your light, hearing your sounds, feeling your touch, smelling your scents, and initially tasting the bitter-sweet flavors of life. Am I just another creature born from your womb and would walk the sands of time leaving footprints that would soon vanish with the tides and would be replaced by countless more who would walk your grounds not leaving any marks of our existence? Am I just like another mushroom that suddenly popped one morning from nowhere then gone tomorrow forgotten as you contenue to orbit the sun? I came here clueless, just another pulsating transient inhabitant questioning, one more mouth to feed, just another dweller who would explore your every corner and exploit  your resources. 

You did not stop moving when I came. Sunrise as usual. Did you at least hear my cries from one of  the smallest isles in the orient seas where I was born? How many of us where born that day? Do you know where we are now? Do you record the distances we treck? Did you feel our first throbbing pulses in your surface? Are we in some way connected to your core?

Sunrise. Sunset. Days. Nights. I slowly began to come into awareness. I have a mother, a father, siblings ~ a family. My mother is your human manifestiation ~ nurturing. My father is the sky, distant but an authority. My life revolved in that small world I know with my siblings at home as I start to see and differentiate colors; to hear, speak and understand words that formed my thoughts. I rose from my crib crawling, learned to walk and run as I form my earliest memories of failures and falling, of triumphs and flying.

“Unfinished Painting” Oil on canvas, 40×48, By: Jeques B. Jamora 

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I started to see and appreciate your beauty. I revere the first bud I saw blooming into flowers. Your trees so tall for the small kid that I was, delighted by their leaves that change colors with the seasons. Your majestic mountain ridges where I first saw the sun rising at dawn, only to set in the other side of the ridges at dusk.  The canopy of trees in your forests filled with all the diverse forms of life I can imagine. Your grass-carpeted plains and valleys, the springs that run through them nourishing every living things, replenished by your rivers that run to the seas. Your enormous oceans that engulf my size everytime I see it. I feel so small, just a tiny speck, like the single grain of sand when I stand in your shores.

I look at the horizon where you and the sky meet and I begin to wonder what’s beyond your vast seas. That curiousity dropped a seed of dream in my heart, my spirit alight to your other side that my eyes are unable to see and my mind could only imagine. You’re supportive of my dreams. You conspire with all the apparent coincedences that let me cross the seas and live my dreams. You are a pampering mother and in all the events and turning points of my life, I commune with you in silence. Am I a favored child? Have I been a good son?

I realize now you never left me in my 35 years of existence. You never fail to remind me of your presence. I still get surprises from you now and then. I just had my first snow.

Every day another bud of flower blooms for me. New seed sprouts, fruit mellows, fish swims to your heart, bird learning to fly, baby crawls from the crib, a boy’s first bath in your rain shower, in your river, in your sea. I am loved. What have I done to deserve all these? You love all your subjects equally but only some few recognizes how enormous your love is.

And when the pulse of this transient inhabitant would stop to beat, you would welcome my return to your navel. You would embrace this mortal body warm in your breasts as my soul begins to descend to an unknown sleep. 

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Click link http://writersisland.wordpress.com/ to navigate to the Writers Island and contribute to this week’s prompt: “EARTH”

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~ by jeques on AMu2u1631 10, 2007.